


How To Say 'I Love You' Without Saying It Out Loud

by universityofwhales



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Wing Grooming, everyone is extra for no reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 06:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19203616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universityofwhales/pseuds/universityofwhales
Summary: Four days locked up in a bookshop is a very long time in Crowley's opinion. He decides to give Aziraphale's wings some much needed preening.





	How To Say 'I Love You' Without Saying It Out Loud

For the past four days, the doors of A. Z. Fell and Co., Booksellers had been locked. Though to the average passersby, the fact that they were locked was not that unusual. You were lucky if you got inside at a reasonable time. But four days was a very long time to be locked, Crowley thought. Even if he respected Mr. Fell wanting some privacy every now and then, half a week seemed excessive. It was time for a visit.

After parking the Bentley (so convenient there was always a spot next to the shop), Crowley walked to the entrance and tried the doorknob. It didn't budge. Next, he knocked on the door. A minute passed. Nothing happened. Right, he tried to be polite. He snapped his fingers and tried the knob again. With no effort, the door swung open and he stepped inside. After shutting the door behind him, he snapped his fingers again. There was a click from the door as it locked itself again, and Crowley walked among the books towards the back. The owner was usually back here during closing hours.

"Angel! You in here?" There was really no point in asking, Crowley could sense Aziraphale as soon as he walked inside. But he asked anyway as his shoes clicked on the floor boards. "Aziraph-. Oh."

Looks like the owner found more books for his collection. About five of them, judging by the pile on the desk. The angel was hunched over one of his volumes, the only sign he was even alive being his eyes reading the pages carefully. Crowley sneaked over and peeked over his shoulder. The text was so small, even someone with 20/20 vision and a magnifying glass would have trouble reading it. No wonder Aziraphale hadn't responded to anything Crowley did. He was using every bit of concentration on this book. Crowley scowled and backed away, looking through the shelves and picking out ones that caught his eye. Let's see here. _Les Miserables_. _War and Peace_. And let's top it off with _Atlas Shrugged_. With his finds, Crowley walked over to the nearby coffee table.

BOOM!

Aziraphale yelped and sat up, his glasses sliding down his nose as he whipped around. The three books had crashed onto the poor table, and the legs were straining to keep themselves up under their combined weight. Seeing the result of his plan, Crowley smiled.

"Still with us, I see."

Aziraphale sighed and frowned at his guest after steadying his heart. "You could have said something. A tap on the shoulder, maybe."

"Last time I did that, you nearly snapped my finger off." Crowley started walking back to the desk. "I see you've found some new reading material."

Ah, this was a topic Aziraphale was more than happy to share. His eyes lit up. "Yes! I was at an auction the other night and they had these wonderful specimens. _Sir Petyr's Predictions of the Next 4000 Years_!" He grabbed a book from the top of the pile. Bound in tanned leather just like the others, this looked to be the second volume of the series, judging by the giant '2' at the bottom.

Crowley frowned as he looked it over. "Two? How many volumes are there?"

"Four in total. One book contains predictions for a period of one thousand years. I was just finishing the first one here when you came in."

"Hm." He nodded. "When were these published?"

"1901."

"So these books contain predictions up to 5901."

"Supposedly, yes."

Dear lord. "Anything interesting coming up?"

Aziraphale thought for a moment. "There were mentions of flying cars around the 2100's."

"That late, huh?"

"Yes. I'm sure you're disappointed in having to wait a little longer."

"The Bentley's good enough for me. As long as it still has a motor, I'm not trading it for anything else."

"Hm. I suppose there's nothing wrong with that."

Crowley took the time to look at Aziraphale more closely. Dust was clinging to his clothes. His hair looked frizzled and dry, though that comes with not washing it for the past few days. And for heaven's sake, he really needed some shut-eye. The last time Crowley had bags under his eyes like that, it was after his drunken rampage when he learned about the Spanish Inquisition. "Have you gotten up since you've started your marathon?"

"No." Aziraphale answered so plainly that it took Crowley by surprise. "I don't see any reason to. We don't have to eat or sleep to keep ourselves alive."

"Not even to stretch your legs?"

He shook his head. If this poor man tried to stand up, his legs would probably give out from under him the moment they tried to support his weight.

Crowley sighed. "You need to move around, angel. Reading is fine, but not when it's four days straight."

"Really, Crowley." Aziraphale turned back to his book. "Have you come here just to tell me how to take care of myself? I've had this vessel for 6000 years, I think I-"

"How are your wings?"

He blinked and turned back around to Crowley. "Pardon?"

"Your wings. When was the last time you paid attention to them?"

There was a pause. Aziraphale's eyes widened, looking everywhere except for Crowley. "I-I don't know why that matters. I don't get much opportunity to present them."

"Well, it's attached to you. It's a part of your body. I don't see why you can't preen them every now and then."

"Um."

Crowley was cracking down on him now. "When's the last time you've actually taken care of them?"

Aziraphale looked downward, like a child caught outside past their bedtime. "A month and a half ago."

Crowley's eyes widened behind his sunglasses. "A month and a half?"

"Well, you know how it's been so busy lately, I haven't had much time to myself since-"

"Angel, the Apocalypse happened a month and a half ago! Or, well, didn't happen. You know what I mean!"

"But it's such a hassle!" He whined. "There's always some spot that I miss, and then my feathers never stay where they should be, and it takes me forever to straighten them out!"

"That's because you don't do it right!"

"How would you know?"

"Because I do it every week and I never have any problems like that!"

Aziraphale paused. "You preen every week?"

"Yeah. Like you're supposed to."

"I do it every month."

The two stared at each other. For the life of him, Aziraphale couldn't figure out what Crowley's expression was supposed to me. It was those damned sunglasses. Crowley should know by now that Aziraphale was never bothered by his eyes. If they were out in public, then it was fine. But it was the two of them right now. There shouldn't be a reason to-

"Right." Crowley finally spoke as he looked around. "Bathroom's that way, right?" He pointed to a door hidden away in the back.

Not understanding what on Earth Crowley was going on about, Aziraphale nodded. "That's correct."

"Got a tub and everything?"

"Yes, it is a bathroom after-"

"Great." And he yanked the angel's collar, forcing him to stand and pushing him in that direction.

* * *

 

"Okay. On the count of three."

"Fine."

"Three."

A bucket of cool water splashed onto the angel's back. The yelp Aziraphale gave out would cause every archangel to hang their head in shame. Here was their representative of Heaven, resting his arms on the rim of the tub, his back facing towards the ceiling as his wings shivered in the cold.

"You said on the count of three!" Aziraphale snapped, turning to Crowley.

"Did I? Must have missed a couple numbers. Tricky things, you know."

Aziraphale sighed, frowning as he rested his chin on his arms. Instinctively, his wings shook the excess water off their feathers, now quite ruffled.

He heard a groan from Crowley as he forced one down. "Can you control them? Just got soaked thanks to them!"

"You must forgive me, dear." He said, his voice not showing a speck of sympathy. "They've never had a bucket of water fall on top of them so suddenly. Perhaps a warning would be appropriate next time."

"It's not my fault you never wash them properly!" He hissed. "Now make them relax so I can work!"

"Very well." Aziraphale closed his eyes, feeling a brush smooth out his feathers.

He wasn't going to get in that tub completely naked. Aziraphale suggested to wait just a minute, he's got an old swimsuit he can dig out to put on. Crowley said his underwear was fine, no need to get that gaudy thing out. Hearing this, Aziraphale got offended and was about to say some choice words about how if that serpent thought he was going to strip down in front of him, he had another thing coming. But he kept his mouth shut and stripped down anyway, though he kept the boxers on. Crowley was fine with that, though that wasn't fair for him to say. He still had his clothes on, rolling up his sleeves and getting to work as soon as Aziraphale laid down in the bath.

"Worse than I thought." Crowley mumbled as he worked on each group of feathers, gently washing them and fixing any that were slightly crooked. "Your feathers are all over the place. Be quicker to get a hose and-"

"Do not finish that thought."

"Fine. Thought canceled." Aziraphale felt a hand patting the feathers down as Crowley continued. "But I wish you would take better care of them. It's a shame to see them so..." He chose his word carefully. "Disorganized."

"You've been the first being to see my wings since the Apocalypse debacle. If I just had them out in the open for everyone to see, there would be a riot, and I would get a rather nasty notice from Heaven." He looked back to his groomer. "Surely, your superiors would do the same if you had your wings out."

"Yes, and I still don't want my wings out for mortals to see. But you forget something critical, angel."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?"

Crowley stopped for a moment, his voice softening. "Has anyone from Heaven visited or contacted you since that day? Because I haven't heard anything from Duke Hastur, and I'm sure he wants to chop my head off and put it on a stake for what I did to Ligur."

Aziraphale paused in thought. Crowley had a point. Since their executions had been thwarted, he hadn't heard a word from anyone. Not from Gabriel, not from Michael, no one. He can't imagine how they would react if he reached out to them. Not that he ever would anytime soon, of course. As far as Aziraphale was concerned, living with no holy intervention was freedom. No way he was going to give it up anytime soon. And besides, he knew Crowley felt the same way. The angel saw first-hand what hell was like, and he would be damned if he let his partner go back there again. "I don't like to think about what would happen if I went up there again."

"Fair enough." Crowley fixed up the tip of Aziraphale's right wing and gave it a small caress. "Your right one's done. Put it down and lift your left one up."

Aziraphale obeyed, and Crowley set to work on that one with his brush. He didn't think Crowley would be so gentle with the way he mumbled to himself when he saw another clump of feathers to straighten out. But he took as much time as he needed to, keeping his movements slow and steady. He never tried to pull or force a feather back into place. It was gradual, brushing Aziraphale's plumage and occasionally using a hand to fix a spot he missed. Aziraphale eventually closed his eyes, letting Crowley continue his job in peace.

"You know, if a human saw a demon preening an angel, they'd probably go mad." Crowley said.

"Mm?"

"Yeah. If they were setting the scene, I would be the one in the bath and you would be preening me."

"I don't know. I'm quite comfortable in this scenario."

"Are you?" There was a tinge of concern in his voice. "I'm not brushing you too hard, am I?"

"No, my dear." He smiled his way. "You're doing wonderfully."

"Oh." Crowley's voice returned to its confidant tone. "Good. Never done this for anyone else before."

"Really? You could have fooled me."

"Oh, stop."

Aziraphale hummed in content. Even if Crowley snapped back at him, he can always hear the joy of being told he did a good job in his voice.

"And," Crowley caressed the tip of Aziraphale's left wing, "your wings are done."

Aziraphale's expression dampened, though he did his best to hide it as he sat up. "Oh. Hm. I was starting to enjoy that."

"Don't worry, there's more to come."

Oh no. Of course there was more. Aziraphale dared to turn and look at the demon, seeing the flash of a devilish grin barely showing itself. "Wha-"

"Three."

And a bucket spilled over Aziraphale's head, soaking his hair and face. The angel kept silent this time, but as soon as the event was over and he sat in the bath, his eyes fully expressed his surprise. "What the hell was that for?" He asked as soon as the shock subsided.

"We're doing your hair next." Aziraphale didn't notice at first, but Crowley had already grabbed a bottle of shampoo and was squeezing some into his hand. The angel frowned as he looked at the bottle and the other one on the floor next to Crowley, most likely conditioner.

"I don't remember having those around."

"Ah, I just found those while getting the bath ready. Don't worry about it."

"Somehow, you saying that makes me worry even more." This wasn't some kind of infernal shampoo, was it? Was it going to burn Aziraphale as soon as it made contact with his scalp? No, that's ridiculous. Crowley would never hurt Aziraphale. Not on purpose, anyway. Oh dear, was this an accident waiting to happen?

"Just relax."

Before Aziraphale can object, Crowley had put his hands on his head and started to lather. The angel squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the worst possible outcome to happen. But a few seconds passed, and nothing had changed. Aziraphale scolded himself for ever thinking Crowley would just summon hair products that could possibly hurt angels and opened his eyes.

Crowley was close. Incredibly close. If Aziraphale moved about six inches forward, he would be in kissing distance. Already, the angel's cheeks were beginning to flush. Dear lord, Crowley was this close and his hands were running through Aziraphale's hair and he had such a gentle touch, it was any wonder the angel hadn't fainted from the whole experience. Could angels faint? He didn't know, but he got the feeling he was about to find out pretty soon.

"For heaven's sake, Aziraphale." Crowley smirked. "You act like this is the first time we've gotten this close to each other."

"Yes, but the context of this encounter is," he gulped, "suggestive, don't you think?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." There was too much entertainment in his voice. Of course he knew what he was doing.

He sighed again and looked at Crowley's eyes. Or at least, while they were hidden behind his sunglasses. Why hadn't he taken those off yet? It was starting to frustrate him more and more, especially now that they were this close. Figuring this was the demon's turn to get flustered, Aziraphale smiled as innocently as he could and reached up for the sunglasses. "If you really want to be this close, then you could do me the favor of showing me your eyes."

That hit something, he could see it in Crowley's face. His sunglasses were removed, his gold eyes revealed to the angel, and a slight pink was rising to his cheeks. "What are my eyes going to do for you?"

"I just love looking into them. There's an air about them that's so...mesmerizing." The angel was laying it on thick, Crowley noticed. His voice was sickly sweet like honey. But he had the most dreamy gaze when he looked into his eyes, Crowley wouldn't dare look away.

"Mesmerizing, eh?"

"Yes. It's the color, I think."

"The color?"

"Yes." He dared to lean closer. "They're the color of the sun when it begins to set over the horizon. Like a candle's light that guides you through the dark. And-"

Aziraphale didn't get a warning this time. Another bucket was dumped on his head, and he didn't react to it this time. He had gotten used to it.

"Sorry, what was that? Got distracted." Crowley said as he reached for the conditioner.

"Sure. Distracted." Aziraphale pursed his lips. "I'm allowed to compliment you, you know."

"Do you have to say it like that? You sound like one of those old poets that only talk in metaphors."

"But metaphors are how I can describe you. It's hard to convey what you are to me in a literal sense."

This made Crowley pause for a split second before beginning to lather the conditioner through Aziraphale's hair. "A literal sense?"

"Yes."

"Angel, between the two of us, we can speak over forty languages. I think you can find some way to describe me."

Aziraphale paused as he looked through his vocabulary. He knew right away English wasn't going to have the answer to what this feeling was. He'll have to look a little deeper. Japanese? No. French? Sorry, the language of love isn't going to help here. Neither was Italian. Wait, Spanish. There was a word that he learned that was perfect. What was it again?

"Flechazo."

Crowley blinked, clearly not understanding what Aziraphale just said. "What's that? Spanish?"

"Yes. In a literal translation, it would mean being struck by Cupid's arrow."

"Cupid's arrow." He smiled at the thought. "Falling in love over and over again."

"Yes. When I can see you like this, being so close to me," he explained, seeing Crowley's eyes soften as he continued, "I always get that feeling of love. Falling in love, being in love, all at once. I'm sure you would agree that-"

Crowley interrupted with a kiss. Aziraphale froze, but quickly melted into the sensation. There was no doubt, love was radiating from the two of them. Once again, Cupid had hit his marks. But all too soon, Crowley releases the kiss, but keeps his forehead rested on Aziraphale's. "Yes. I agree completely."

Aziraphale smiled, a small giggle slipping out. "I'm glad we can see eye-to-eye like this. Three."

"Wh-"

And before Crowley could respond, Aziraphale had dumped a bucket of water over the two of them. As they both sat there, soaking wet, Crowley moved a strand of hair from his face.

"I appreciate the thought, angel." He said with an expression that was not amused. "But I took my bath yesterday."

"Just saw a spot you missed, my dear. And besides, I did give you a warning." He smirked, proud of his revenge.

**Author's Note:**

> I keep telling myself that I should branch out and write something other than fluff. But it just kind of happens?? -shrugs-


End file.
